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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656999">Invalids Get Ice Cream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower'>WittyWallflower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Enterprise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Touching, Unresolved Sexual Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:55:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Reed needs a little assistance after an injury, so his good friend Trip Tucker comes to help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Invalids Get Ice Cream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>minor tw for mild description of wounds</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>"Reed to Commander Tucker."</p><p>Trip tossed his tool down on the worktop in what he thought of as his 'tinkerin' corner' of Engineering. It wasn't much but it was a nice out-of-the-way spot to get stuff done. With a stretch he rose and stepped over to the comm panel on the bulkhead nearby.</p><p>"Tucker here. What can I do for ya, Lieutenant?" he answered the hail.</p><p>"Are you available for a moment? I could use your assistance with something."</p><p>Trip raised an eyebrow at the request.</p><p>Phlox had only agreed to release Malcolm to his quarters on the condition that he stay there, resting and doing absolutely no work. Malcolm was just about the only one on board who could bully Phlox into letting him out of Sickbay early. If Reed thought Trip was interested in helping him circumvent the doctor's orders, he was in for an unpleasant surprise. Still, it was better that Trip shut him down now before Malcolm tried to get a subordinate to bring him the latest weapons status reports or something. And the engineer was real damn curious was so all-fired important that the Brit couldn't even wait one day out of Sickbay before getting back to it. </p><p>"Yeah, give me ten minutes and I'll dropped by," he spoke to the comm.</p><p>"Acknowledged."</p><p>Trip keyed the comm line closed and tidied up his work station so no spare parts would go missing before he got back to it tomorrow. He wasn't working on anything important and his shift was just about up anyway. It wouldn't hurt him to clock out on time for once. Malcolm would no doubt be aware of the entire schedule roster for the whole ship. Clearly he had <em>intended</em> to catch Trip off-duty. Curiouser and curiouser. After a few instructions to the replacement shift he made his way to officers' quarters. </p><p>Trip hit the chime outside Malcolm's door and entered at Reed's summons. The lieutenant turned at his entry, a corner of his lips lifted slightly in greeting. Trip knew Malcolm well enough by now to know what Reed's polite-but-uncomfortable smile looked like.</p><p>"What's up?" he asked.</p><p>Malcolm cleared his throat and tucked his hands at the small of his back, standing straight and taut as if he'd been called to attention. Another sign of discomfort. Rigid posture was the norm on duty, but he had no reason to be so tense in the privacy of his quarters, even if a superior officer was standing there. Malcolm's jaw worked a moment before he spoke.</p><p>"You're aware I was injured during the away mission?" he asked. Unnecessarily.</p><p>Trip gave Malcolm a speaking look.</p><p>"Of course. My friends go on a mission, I'm gonna make sure they're okay when they get back." His brow creased and Trip's expression turned sympathetic. "It was pretty bad, huh? Phlox wouldn't let anyone disturb you when I stopped by, kicked me right on outta there."</p><p>Malcolm's eyebrows lifted. He hadn't know Trip had come to check on him. Of course Reed hadn't known, he'd been unconscious. Doped to the gills with pain medication. Unable to help Tucker repair the damage the shuttlepod had taken during their escape. Apparently he'd taken a break long enough to check on Malcolm. That thought was pleasing. </p><p>Malcolm shrugged off Trip's question though. "I've had worse, I'm sure. Comes with the job."</p><p>Trip just nodded, trying to absorb that statement. Reed was a good officer; loyal, diligent, wholeheartedly devoted to ship and its crew. To a fault, sometimes. But he was also a man, a normal human man who felt pain. More than his fair share of it, by Trip's estimation. If only serving on Enterprise didn't mean his job was so frequently a danger to his well-being. </p><p>Malcolm cleared his throat again and continued.</p><p>"That's actually why I called you. I need... that is, Phlox provided me with some medicine. A numbing salve to put on the wounds so if I roll over on them in the night, I wont wake up in agony." He looked away, a bit self conscious. "The problem is I can't reach my back to apply it thanks to the bloody dislocated shoulder."</p><p>Trip blinked. That was not what he had expected Malcolm to ask. But all in all it was a pretty simple request. Knowing Mal's British stiff-upper-lip mentality, it wasn't an easy thing for the man to ask for help. With anything. And not making a big deal about it was probably the kindest thing Trip could do for him right now. That and slather on some goo. Hopefully it wasn't as pungent as some of Phlox's creations.</p><p>"All right then. Just call me Nurse Tucker," he joked with a clap of his hands, glancing around for an unmistakable Sickbay container.</p><p>He missed the slight roll of Reed's eyes. And how the earlier smile returned, but more shyly genuinely this time.</p><p>Malcolm pulled a small pot of salve out of the pocket of his uniform and tossed it to his friend. Trip caught it, opening it to give it a sniff.</p><p>"Not bad. Kinda smells like eucalyptus. At least the stink wont keep you up." Trip had a thought and glanced at the chronometer next to Malcolm's bunk. "You gettin' ready to sleep this early?"</p><p>Phlox had given strict instructions to rest. Enterprise's officers were not good at following instructions like that. Least of all Malcolm who went most days on 5 hours of sleep. After being forced to spend the last few days stretched out prone on a biobed with nothing to do but sleep or stare at the ceiling, Trip figured Reed would have had enough laying around. </p><p>Malcolm shrugged irritably.</p><p>"I'm not left with much else to do, am I? I'm not allowed to leave my quarters and Phlox even sent Cutler to remove all the data padds before he discharged me so I can't work from my bunk." Malcolm grimaced. "They could have left me a novel or a technical journal, something to read to pass the time."</p><p>"A technical journal is just more work and you know it," Trip called him out, but managed to suppress his smile of amusement at the workaholic. No need to rub it in. "I could probably get my hands on a few movies for you if you want. I've got a few good sci-fi flicks I've been holding back for a special occasion. Real bona-fide cinematic masterpieces that won tons of awards, but still have lots of space battles and pew-pew. You'll love 'em."</p><p>"I <em>think</em> I trust you on that. But good lord, some of the terrible films I've sat through at movie night... why would you show the bad ones and not the good ones?"</p><p>Trip gave a game shrug. "The bad ones can be more enjoyable in their own way."</p><p>Malcolm raised a dubious eyebrow to beg an explanation for that.</p><p>"When you got a big group like that, half the fun is complainin' about the movie after it. Or even during it, if its bad enough. There's a lot more group discussion when people can all agree on complaints, so people get to talkin' more. Makes the whole thing more social, instead of us all just sitting in the dark for a coupla hours, then going our separate ways. But when you're watching something alone to pass the time or distract yourself from your problems, that's when you want the good stuff."</p><p>Reed nodded his understanding. Behind his passive expression he gave Tucker an assessing look. The man was rather shrewd when it came to people. A talent Malcolm had never really mastered himself. He could manage a bit of charm when the situation called for it, but he much preferred to manipulate the situation so that his skills, or his weapons, could do the talking for him. Tucker though, he was gregarious and outgoing. He was also insightful; Malcolm suspected Trip could read people far better than the engineer himself even realized. And he was certain that Trip had not made a conscious decision to make movie nights more engaging for everyone. The efforts taken to foster tighter bonds among the crew had come naturally to Trip. Without a thought, he set himself toward making Enterprise run smoothly right down to its human components.</p><p>He would have made a superb first officer, Malcolm realized. He was almost a little offended on his friend's behalf that T'pol had been promoted to the position that had been intended for Trip before anyone ever set foot about the ship. The way the man could rally the crew, the way the entire engineering department cheerfully worked themselves to the bone for him, his approachable but firm leadership style... he'd make a damn good captain, come to think of it.</p><p>Lieutenant Reed respected his captain, he truly did, and he was loyal to th man. But more than occasionally did he chafe at the some of the decisions Jonathan Archer.. He wasn't altogether certain he could have functioned in T'pol's position as successfully as the stoic Vulcan did. He didn't have T'pol's tact when disagreeing with Archer. But being first officer to a Captain Charles Tucker III... well, that would be quite an adventure.</p><p>Malcolm blinked the fanciful thoughts away and gave Trip a smile.</p><p>"The 'good stuff' sounds lovely then. Thank you, Trip."</p><p>Trip nodded. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just fiddled with the salve pot and smiled gently at Malcolm.</p><p>"Well, I can get this stuff on you," Trip eventually spoke. A faint look of displeasure crossed Malcolm's face. "<em>Or</em> if you're not ready for bed after all, I could go dig up those movies now. Or, hey, you hungry? I was planning to grab a meal when I got off shift, wanna keep me company?"</p><p>"I'm under house arrest at the moment." Malcolm tried to keep his scowl within reason, so it didn't turn into a childish pout. "Phlox ordered Chef not to even serve me if I turn up in the mess hall, but to send me back to my quarters like a wayward child sent to bed without his supper."</p><p>Though of course the doctor wouldn't let Chef deprive him of a meal. He did need proper nutrition to heal. But he could dine in his quarters, and Phlox had insinuated he would hear about it if any food returned uneaten. </p><p>Trip couldn't help a chuckle at that. With the petulant downturn of Reed's mouth and the man's long eyelashes, he did look a little bit like a sulky toddler. Trip knew better than to say anything about it though; even an injured Malcolm could probably lay him out flat on the deck. And as much as he liked to give his friend a hard time, so soon after a serious injury it felt a little too much like kicking the man while he was down. He wanted to <em>help</em> Malcolm, not hassle him.</p><p>"Tell you what," Trip suggested, "How 'bout I go grab us both some chow and bring it back here? Save Chef's stewards a trip."</p><p>Malcolm tried to demure, uneasy with the idea of a superior officer waiting table on him, even when both were off duty. But Trip just waved his protestations aside on his way for the door. He didn't share the Brit's stuffy sense of propriety and its not as if Malcolm could do anything to stop him. It was a lot of unnecessary fuss, in his mind, but he reminded himself that Malcolm probably hadn't had a lot of friends. At least not the type close friends that would actually feel a desire to take care of a surly, sarcastic man who would insist he didn't need anyone looking after him. And sure, maybe Malcolm really didn't <em>need</em> anyone taking care of him. But that wasn't going to stop Trip from doing what he could to make the Brit feel better anyway. </p><p>"Anything special you want? Or don't want?" Trip asked on his way to the door. Malcolm shook his head dumbly, a bit bowled over by Trip's cheerful insistence. "I'll swing by my quarters and grab a couple data padds. But i ain't putting anything but movies on them!" he said, a warning finger pointed at Malcolm as he disappeared into the corridor.</p><p>Malcolm blinked again, then grimaced slightly. If only he had had the presence of mind in the moment to request a specific dish. Reed didn't always care for Chef's more adventurous experiments, and Trip was exactly the sort of merry prankster to present his friend with the spiciest curry the kitchens could manage. And by the longing gurgle in his empty stomach, Malcolm wasn't altogether sure he would refuse it. But his digestion wouldn't thank him for it later and he didn't fancy a visit to Phlox for an antacid.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't long before Trip's return. Malcolm couldn't fathom how the man had managed a hand free to hit the door chime. The blond was loaded down. Two covered trays were stacked one on top of the other. On top of those were two mugs and a large container Reed couldn't identify. Vacuum sealed by the look of it. But he didn't have time to wonder because the small precarious pile of padds on top of it all was threatening to slide off as Trip entered. Malcolm stepped forward quickly, deft hands plucking the padds from midair just as they fell.</p><p>"Nice reflexes."</p><p>Trip grinned his appreciation and stepped over to set his burdens down on Malcolm's desk. In addition to the trays, padds, and mysterious container, which Trip set on the floor out of the way, there was a black carry-sack looped around Trip's wrist. A thermos bulging out of one of his pockets. </p><p>A raised eyebrow was Reed's only response to Tucker's many burdens.</p><p>"I figured if you're stuck here for a bit, you might need some supplies on hand." Trip shook the black cloth bag in emphasis before setting it aside. "Chef said to comm any time you want a meal delivered, but I had him put together a care package for you. A couple oranges and some energy bars in case you need a midnight snack, and a couple of teabags. Remind me before I leave and I'll adjust the temperature settings on your faucet so it can manage boiling water. Just don't forget about it when you turn it to Hot to wash your hands!"</p><p>Malcolm couldn't manage to summon up the proper disgust at idea of making tea straight from the tap. The mess hall beverage dispensers had been depriving him of the comfort of a whistling kettle for so long, he rather forgot what one sounded like. Besides, he was too occupied with being quietly overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the other man. Having to comm for every personal need or feeling of peckishness would have irritated Malcolm's well developed sense of independence and self-sufficiency.  Trip had eliminated the need to rely on others more than absolutely necessary. Tucker knew him well and Malcolm couldn't have managed a response at that moment, speechless at this show of Trip's ready friendship.</p><p>Luckily a response wasn't needed as Trip set to cataloging the rest of his treasures.</p><p>The thermos contained iced tea. Not Reed's preferred beverage but he knew it was a reasonable compromise from the American would prefer to take a tall glass of milk with every meal if it was an option. Iced tea was something they both enjoyed well enough. Beneath the cover of his tray, Malcolm was pleasantly relieved by a meal that appeared unremarkable in terms of mischief but smelled quite appetizing. The pasta dish was accompanied by a small salad and a bread roll. Trip's identical tray was a bit of a surprise from such a staunch steak-and-potatoes man as the Commander.</p><p>They both sat to eat before Trip remembered one last offering and slipped a small flask out of one of his jumpsuit pockets.</p><p>"Little gift from one of your armory officers," Trip said with a conspiratorial wink "And no, I'm not gonna tell you which one's got the contraband hooch on board. I ain't a snitch."</p><p>Tucker sounded so smugly pleased with himself, Reed half expected to have a tongue stuck out at him in a childish manner.</p><p>Malcolm rolled his eyes as he took the flask and opened it for a sniff. He preferred a mixed drink as a rule but whoever the lush on his armory staff was (and he had his suspicions) they had excellent taste in vodka. Capping the flask again, he pointedly set it aside.</p><p>"Best ask Phlox if I should abstain while on pain medication. It wouldn't do to get completely soused off a couple sips," he explained as he and Trip took up their utensils to eat.</p><p>Trip shrugged and mumbled around a bite, "S'not as if you're on duty. No harm in occasionally getting tipsy in a responsible and controlled manner."</p><p>Malcolm's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed slightly, unsure if Trip was just teasing him or subtly criticizing Reed's reputation for having a stick up his arse.  Trip's expression was all innocent as he ate, looking back at Malcolm steadily until the armory officer followed suit. And was distracted by the food.</p><p>Resequenced protein pasta was common mess hall fare. Reed had had innumerable servings of it in all its limited variety of sauces and toppings. But these was not the pasta he was used to. Instead of weak flavor that flattened out and never quite seemed to fill the nose with aroma the way a real home cooked meal did, this dish was uncommonly tasty. He'd almost swear it was made with fresh ingredients.</p><p>A smile creeped up on Trip's lips as he watched Malcolm eat. Always a very fastidious eater, the quick, neat bites Reed took were the closest the well-mannered man would ever come to shoveling food into his face. There was a hum of satisfaction; one Reed didn't realize he had made until he looked up from his plate and caught Trip's inquiring smile.</p><p>"Good?" the engineer asked. Malcolm nodded. "Hoshi's got a couple of potted herbs growing in her quarters. You know how she likes to cook sometimes. I convinced her to part with a little cilantro for a good cause."</p><p>Malcolm might have snorted at the thought of himself as a "good cause". He didn't need to be spoiled just for doing his job. But his mouth was full and the food was too good to interrupt with derision. It was very kind of Trip to ask, and Hoshi to agree. It would be churlish and ungrateful to protest while he was in the middle of enjoying their efforts </p><p>"Well, my compliments to the chef," he settled for saying. </p><p>They ate companionably, chatting with ease. Trip deftly steering the conversation away from all but the most general of ship's business, knowing Reed the workaholic would find something to get himself bothered about if left to think about it too long in his boredom. When their meals were finished, Trip stacked the trays and pushed them aside, replacing them on the desk with the padds he had brought, laying them down one by one.</p><p>"This one has the best explosions but its the second in a trilogy. Now, I know you're gonna want to watch the best one first but trust me, start at the beginning with this one and watch all three. You'll have time." Malcolm frowned at the reminder of his enforced seclusion and Trip rushed on to distract him, setting the next padd on top of the first three. "This one is a pretty unique genre, called space westerns. No explosions I can recall but I think you'll like the gunfights. And last but not least, the foremost documentary on the Battle of Trafalgar. I'm sure you already know all the historical details backwards and forwards but the dramatic reenactments on this one are supposed to be the best."</p><p>Trip nudged the stack of padds across the table to Malcolm, a little self-conscious. He knew not everyone shared his love for this form of entertainment. The more serious souls among the crew were usually not the ones front and center every movie night, and the only one on board more serious than Malcolm was T'pol. But he'd tried to think of stuff his friend would enjoy, relishing the challenge of deciphering this man that was still a bit of an enigma.</p><p>Malcolm beamed with delight and Trip's breath caught at the sight of it. That may be the biggest smile he had ever seen on the face of the reserved armory officer. It transformed the staid's man's appearance entirely, a brief glimpse of a different Malcolm Reed from the one who showed up for duty on the bridge. One Tucker decided he wanted to know a little better.  Unconsciously he mirrored the grin with one of his own megawatt smiles.</p><p>Which went unnoticed as Malcolm eagerly examined the last offering, reading the synopsis and noting the name of his favorite documentary narrator in the credits. The last naval docudrama he'd watched on the Spanish Armada had been narrated by an American. Bloody disrespectful treatment of British naval history, he thought.</p><p>"This looks lovely, thank you."</p><p>It always amused Trip when Malcolm used the word "lovely". It was such a tender adjective for such a hard-bitten man to use. And rarely did he use it in the conventional sense of "lovely". Malcolm Reed didn't use the word to admire a glorious sunset or the sparkling shimmer of ice in the dust of a comet's tail. He found it more fitting to apply to a bloody battle that happened centuries before either of them had been born.</p><p>The humor couldn't eclipse the tenderness in Trip's smile, and when Malcolm looked up again he couldn't miss either. He cleared his throat self consciously and waved the padd.</p><p>"I'll watch this tonight I think," he said, then noted the run-time. 3 hours of even the most fascinating subject was beyond his attention span at the moment. "On second thought, maybe I will save it to keep me busy tomorrow."</p><p>Clicking off the padd, Malcolm set it by his bunk, turning aside to try to hide the yawn he valiantly smothered. Affixing a pleasant half-smile to his face, he turned back.</p><p>"Well Commander, thank you very much for your company and the delivery service. I don't want to take up too much of your time, I know you've been on duty all day and must be anxious to relax. I wont keep you any longer if you'd like to-"</p><p>"Keep your shirt on, Lieutenant," Trip interrupted him with amused affection in his voice. "I ain't leaving till I've had dessert."</p><p>"Dessert?"</p><p>Trip ducked his head under the desk and came up with the unexplained mystery container. He'd kicked it out of the way of his feet while he ate and Malcolm had forgotten about it; now Trip plunked it down with a soft thud. Malcolm's brows drew together in a puzzled frown</p><p>Dialing the code into the pressure lock, there was a hiss as the seal was broken and Trip lifted the lid. Malcolm could immediately feel a chill drift over his hand where it rested on the desk. In short order a large glass dish, frosted from the cold, was removed and set before him.</p><p>"A top notch ice cream sundae made by yours truly. Well, I didn't hand-churn the ice cream myself or anything, chef did the grunt work. But I like to think my choice of toppings was inspired and really elevates the whole thing to gourmet." </p><p>Malcolm had chuckle; the laughter was audible in Trip's voice and his amusement was infectious. It was too hard to resist joining the fun with him. It usually was. Equally impossible to resist was the creamy dessert in front of him.</p><p>The drizzle of chocolate syrup was expected. Could it really be considered a sundae without that? The small chunks of pineapple scattered liberally over the ice cream were a happy sight. It was the addition of pecans that really brought the whole thing together. Such a uniquely Trip Tucker addition, bringing a little of his favorite dessert into another treat. When Trip handed him a spoon and they both dug in, Malcolm found the combination was a winner; the sweet vanilla ice cream, the tart bite of the pineapple, and the salty pecans to round the flavor profile out.</p><p>Their spoons were dueling for the last bites before Reed realized they'd been eating from the same bowl. The sundae certainly had been large enough for two but Malcolm was unaccustomed to sharing food so intimately. Half the time he didn't even have company at his table in the mess hall, unless someone else sought him out. He colored slightly; Trip kept setting him off balance without even trying to. Certainly without meaning to.</p><p>Malcolm's flush was missed by Trip as he packed the empty dish back into the container that had kept the frozen confection chilled during its journey through ship and as they ate their meal. When the engineer did turn back from the task he caught his friend suppressing another yawn.</p><p>They had taken their time over their food, having plenty to chat about. Trip decided that by now it was a reasonable bedtime for a recuperating patient.</p><p>"All right, now I can take care of what you called me here to do in the first place. Get changed into your PJs and we can get Phlox's goop on you so you can sleep."</p><p>Malcolm grabbed his nightwear and stepped in the lav to change. It was silly, really. He'd changed in front of Trip any number of times in decon, the gym, getting in and out of EV suits. Malcolm may socially be a shy man, but he wasn't particularly inhibited about his body being on display. He did rather put a lot of effort into keeping it fit, and it was nice to have it noticed now and again. But he wasn't sure exactly what sort of notice it would bring right now. What sort of attention, if any, he wanted to draw to his slender but defined physique here in the intimacy of his quarters, alone with an attractive man. </p><p>Not that Trip would have even noticed Reed's strong lean form, distracted as the commander was tidily stacked all the dishes next to the door so he could easily grab them as he left. The trays were standard mess issue, but Chef would come looking for him if the vacuum-seal container wasn't returned. That was used to keep the Captain's meal a suitable temperature when Archer was called away from the mess in the middle of a meal.</p><p>"Ahem."</p><p>Trip turned at the sound of a throat clearing behind him.</p><p>Malcolm stood in the door to the small lavatory cubicle. His uniform was unzipped down the front and one sleeve was shucked, hanging at his side. He looked sheepish, and a little pained.</p><p>"Bloody jumpsuit is a bugger to wiggle out of with one arm. I'm not sure I can manage without twisting my shoulder up again. Could you...?" he trailed off, unable to voice the absurd request to his superior officer to please undress him.</p><p>To Malcolm's surprise Trip just nodded without poking any fun at the shorter man for it. Really, it shouldn't be a surprise. Yes, Tucker loved any excuse to laugh, enjoyed joking around and affectionately teasing his friends. But Trip also knew that Malcolm detested being injured and hated having to ask for help. So he didn't rub it in, didn't even smile knowingly as he stepped up Malcolm's side.</p><p>By rolling the sleeve from both ends, it was easier to slip Malcolm's arm free without having to move the shoulder joint too far. Unfortunately it was unavoidable when it came time to remove his sleeveless undershirt. Reed hissed at the discomfort of trying to bring his arms up high enough for Trip to pull the garment off over his head. He was panting slightly in reaction to the pain by the time he finally stood there shirtless, the top half of his uniform bunched around his waist.</p><p>Malcolm's head swam slightly and he leaned against his desk for a moment.</p><p>"Y'all right there?"</p><p>Malcolm nodded wryly, too dizzy to notice Trip placing a hand on his hip to steady him. Reed closed his eyes and took a measured breath to collect himself. If he wasn't all right, there wasn't a lot Tucker could do about it anyway so Malcolm would just have to pull himself together.</p><p>"Need me to get more pain meds from the doc?" his blond friend pressed, still concerned.</p><p>"That wont be necessary. He sent me home with a few doses in a hypo, just in case. The pain is easing now though, I don't think I need it yet. I'll just be a moment."</p><p>Malcolm ducked back into the bathroom and made short work of changing into a pair of soft comfortable sweatpants. Trip had the pot of salve open when Malcolm exited it, rubbing the ointment between his hands and sniffing appreciatively. He looked a bit chagrined to be caught out at it.</p><p>"Jus' warming it up. Don't want you to jump out of your skin if the cream or my fingers are cold."</p><p>"I appreciate the consideration, Commander," Malcolm smiled wryly. Trip rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Let's drop the rank, huh? Or all my junior officers will start expectin' massages."</p><p>Malcolm's eyebrow disappeared into his hairline at that. Who said anything about massage? This was simple medicine application, he had thought. No different than the sort of treatment he might get from Liz Cutler if he had gone to Sickbay. But having Trip Tucker, his commander and his friend, do the job was certainly a far cry from it being done by one of Phlox's assistants. Trip twirled a finger to indicated Malcolm should spin around and present his back. At least that hid the confusion on Malcolm's expression as he turned away,</p><p>And the grimace that chased it away when he heard Trip's soft exclamation.</p><p>"Jeezus, Malcom..." Trip trailed off as his fingers fluttered above the wounds on the armor officer's back.</p><p>Despite his intention, he was almost unwillingly to touch the angry red flesh, worried of hurting Malcolm more.</p><p>He knew Malcolm had been injured, but the man shrugged it off like he always did, making it impossible to guess how serious it was. Trip knew the bare bones of what had happened on the surface when the away team was accused of violation the native culture's social laws. Now he was wondering how much had gotten left out of the official reports that he, as a senior officer, had to sign off on. God, he hoped there wasn't more. The fact that the punishment for the social infraction had been a vicious public whipping was terrible enough. The awful injuries inflicted to Lieutenant Reed before Archer had arrived on scene were only compounded during their fight to escape and new ones added when their shuttlepod was getting shot to hell before Enterprise arrived to the rescue. </p><p>Vivid welts slashed diagonally down Malcolm's back. Long strips of abused flesh stood raised, some running parallel, some overlaying each other, criss-crossing until Trip couldn't keep them straight. Couldn't count how many lashes the shorter man must have suffered. Phlox had healed the cuts. The red marks were shiny with new skin, fragile and too tender yet to allow the lieutenant to sleep comfortably on his back. At least, not without a strong analgesic. Which Trip turned his focus to applying, doing his best to be gentle. He had difficulty swallowing the rage welling up inside him. How dare the locals treat his crewmate, his friend, like this? Or anyone? Why was Enterprise treating with and trading with barbarians who were still doling out corporal punishment for the least little nonviolent offense?</p><p>Malcolm squirming when Trip finally touched an ointment-coated finger to the pain-heated skin of his back. Trip pulled back immediately.</p><p>"Sorry. Hurt bad?"</p><p>"No," Malcolm shook his head, "No, its okay. Its rather nice actually."</p><p>Still he shuddered very slightly when he felt Trip's hands on his skin again. Gentle dabbing fingers worked their way down his back, following the whip marks from Malcolm's left shoulder down to his right flank. The medicine was effective, and fast acting. Already the burn of pain was fading and Trip's feather soft touch didn't irritate, merely tickled a little here and there. Malcolm felt himself relaxing, his posture easing along with the worst of the pain and his squared shoulders drooping until he was sure he looked as tired as he felt.</p><p>Trip reached for the pot, gathering more of the soothing salve and spreading it on abused skin. The new handful, still cool to the touch, made Malcolm tense for a fraction of a second before slouching even further with a sigh. His eyes dropped closed and he unconsciously swayed back into the healing strokes that were becoming hypnotic, almost putting him to sleep on his feet.</p><p>Any thought of weariness fled his minds seconds later. Trip, coating Reed's wounds diligently, followed an especially long welt to where it disappeared down Reed's hip. Malcolm's eyes shot open and he choked back a gasp when the larger man's fingers dipped into the waistband of his pants, following the livid mark the last inch or so until it tapered off. The hand slid back out, and left his skin, ministrations finished. It was a conscious effort to regulate his breathing as Malcolm turned back. Tucker, damn him, didn't even seem to notice what he had done. Apparently unphased, Trip stepped into the bathroom to wash the medicated cream from his hands.</p><p><em>This stuff is strong,</em> Trip thought. <em>Definitely shoulda been wearing gloves to apply it.</em></p><p>But the fact that his fingers were completely numb had been a blessing by the end. It was a lot harder to get lost in touching someone when you couldn't actually feel their skin beneath your hands. Not that Trip was looking to get lost in the feel of Malcolm Reed's skin, he told himself. Hell, he wasn't really looking for anything, from anyone. This was just a little friendly help to an injured colleague. Anything that felt oddly... charged was just a natural reaction to stroking the skin of another person. It had been a while since his last roll in the hay and that hadn't exactly included much by way of gentle petting.</p><p>Trip stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. There was a yearning feeling within him, prompted by the healing touches he had given his friend. But the desire to extend his touch beyond Malcolm's back, to the rest of the smaller man's body... that was just a completely normal response, given the lack of physical intimacy in his life lately. Right? His body was just reactin' to external stimuli, it didn't mean anything that it was Malcolm he was reacting to. Did it? No, of course not. He was just a little touch-starved. Totally understandable. It really didn't matter at all that chaste hands on Malcolm's back had made him feel far warmer than the heated kisses he'd exchanged with Kaitaama.</p><p>Trip clicked the lights in the lav off and stepped back into main cabin. Okay, maybe he wasn't so sure about that anymore. His throat swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth. Faced with the man's mutilated back, Trip had been distracted from thinking about about the man's state of undress. The lieutenant practically slept in his uniform; shirtless he seemed close to naked. But now the wounds were hidden behind Malcolm and he presented a very appealingly physique. Though he wasn't a large man, his muscles were strong beneath the pale skin and dark body hair. A light down trailed over his stomach, faintly outlining the definition of his abs before disappearing under the waistband of his pants.</p><p>Trip snapped his eyes away before they could have any ideas about following that line down to find out what was beneath the non-descript sweatpants. Aside from the hard, powerful thighs he had glimpsed before in decon-... Tripped sucked in a breath, trying to keep it casual as he forced his thoughts back to the present. This was not the time to be thinking about Malcolm's legs and how strong they would feel wrapped around- Trip shook himself.</p><p>"Anything else I can do for you before I head out?" he asked, kinda ready to extricate himself from this situation that was leaving him floundering. He had to get out of here before he did something stupid. Like blush. Or touch Malcolm again. </p><p>Malcolm frankly wanted to gawp at the blond in confusion. His skin still tingled where Trip's hand had slipped low, enticingly close to Malcolm's arse. Entirely too close for peace of mind. It had set Malcolm on edge. Hypersensitized now, body on alert, his senses didn't miss a trick. He'd caught that brief assessing look Trip had slid down his body when he had emerged from the other room, heard the audible gulp before Trip spoke. But surely Malcolm's read on the situation was off. He was tired, not at 100% after his injuries, likely half-gone off the last of the painkillers Phlox had forced on him before letting him leave Sickbay. His mind wasn't at its best and there was simply no way that had been a gaze of subtle appreciation he had seen on his commanding officer and friend.</p><p>"No," Malcolm winced as he had to clear his throat and try that again, "No, thank you Commander. You've been very helpful but I'm sure I'll do fine left alone now. Thank you for the company and..."</p><p>He waved a hand wordlessly to encompass everything. The meal, the dessert, the entertainment, the extra supplies, the medicine. Most of all the company, the friendship. He wasn't used to having anyone care about him in this way. Independence and a stiff upper lip had always been encouraged in his family. Trip knew that Malcolm could look after himself; Trip only helped because he wanted to... because he cared. Malcolm wasn't a man who knew how to express his deep appreciation when thoughtful affection was shown to him; not even with his closest friend.</p><p>Trip though knew that, knew Malcolm was a man of few words when it came to feelings.</p><p>"No problem, Lieutenant," Trip wanted to clap the other man on the shoulder but decided that probably wouldn't be the most comfortable experience for his friend. And he should probably keep his hands to himself. So he settled for an easy smile as he gathered detritus of their meal to carry back to the mess. "If you need anything, you now where to find me."</p><p>"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."</p><p>By the slight fall of Trip's smile as he bid goodnight, Malcolm could tell he had retreated rather too far back into formality. It seemed ludicrous, even to himself. The man had just had his hands all over Malcolm, it was a little silly to fall back into ranks after the fact. But rank was familiar, comforting. With rank Malcolm always had a clear idea of how to treat a person. He didn't have to question how he should act around anyone when he treated everyone as according to their rank.</p><p>But Trip Tucker had a way of subverting both rank and Malcolm's footing. Leaving him spun about and unsure of himself more often than not.</p><p>He hated that feeling. </p><p>But he liked spending time with Trip more. </p>
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